


DwtF; Heir to the Throne

by ShadowThorne



Series: Dinner with the Family [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Crime, Drama, F/M, M/M, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowThorne/pseuds/ShadowThorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the boss of a prominent mafia family, Shiro always has a price tag on him but after things get a little more heated and death pays a closer visit than he's used to, he realizes that, should a rival family get to him, he has no one to take his place. An heir will be needed to pass his legacy to, and for that, a new kind of business and a new partner. Alas, nothing is that simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be full of questionable occurrences. There will be one-sided attractions and plenty of manipulation abound. There will be straight smut, though not detailed. There will be character death, though no one from the main arch of the DwtF au. The ending is likely to be bittersweet at best, but will be happy.
> 
> If you haven't read my other Dinner with the Family stories, you'll miss out on a few references of past events, but nothing major. The story should still be understandable. If you would like to read the others, they can be found on my ffn under the same user name.
> 
> All that said, enjoy the read!

He sat across the table from her, his hands casually clasped upon the smooth surface. A single, simple silver band decorated his left thumb. His long, white hair was pulled back in a tail at the nape of his neck and he wore all the fineries of someone of his status; a finely tailored suit, a silk tie, expensive, well polished shoes, all in a white that had become iconic.

The woman shifted in her seat. This was the first time she’d met him in person and it was clear that she was nervous, despite how remarkably well composed she remained. He was, she decided, a little smaller in stature than she’d imagined from the stories, but not small by any means; average height, really. His presence was a commanding one, however, and more than made up for it.

When he was finally done studying her from where he sat -his odd eyes sharp like a snake’s, but not cold, just…clinical- he reached for the elegant glass nearby. The place he’d chosen was fine and expensive, with comfortable lighting and an extensive bar, yet he drank a simple, heady red wine and when he’d offered her a drink as well only to be declined, he hadn’t insisted.

There were two other gentlemen in the room, she noted, that seemed to belong to the man seated across from her. Unlike him, they wore black, but the dark coloring didn’t help them blend. They were alert, sharp, watchful. She let it be made obvious she’d spotted them where they sat at the bar not far away and watched.

A hint of a smirk tugged at one side of pale lips as don Shirosaki placed his glass back on the wooden tabletop. It was only when he was absolutely certain of his choice that he spoke and finally broke the tension. “I got a business proposition for ya, miss.”

His oddly lilting voice held a surprising amount of polite charm, and the added respectful title was unexpected. She again glanced at his henchmen, before letting her gaze travel back to the powerful man. “I’d gathered.” Was all she said.

Shiro nodded ever so slightly, relaxed in his seat, radiating confidence. “Unlike mosta my business partners, I’m gonna give you the option ta tell me no.” He said, tapping a single finger very softly against the dark wood of the tabletop, “Keep in mind that’s on the table. I gotta lot ta ask of ya.”

At the bar a few paces away, the smaller of the don’s two men shifted, something like disapproval flashing across his handsome features. The bigger one, arms crossed over his chest, leaned in. The woman saw his lips move, but couldn’t make out what was said. She focused on the don again, and he continued.

“I’ve never been real delicate, forgive me.” He said, that ghosting of a smirk still resting on his features, yet there was nothing humorous in what he’d said. “Ya see, in my line of business, there’s no guarantee of tomorrow. Things get messy. For me, they’ve been gettin’ messier.” He paused, the smirk dropping from his face so swiftly it might not have been there at all. Pulling aside one edge of his white suit jacket, he fished out a carton of cigarettes and tucked one between his lips, but he arched questioning brows towards his guest before lighting up.

Again, the politeness of the simple gesture caught her off guard. After a moment of surprise, she nodded her consent.

The lighter flicked to life and snapped shut with a hushed snick of smooth metal on metal. The don set it upon the table next to his wine, taking the first drag of his cigarette like it was air itself. He blew out a puff of bluish grey smoke, aiming it off to one side, before continuing, “I’m not an old man, but I’m old enough ta start lookin’ ahead. When I’m too old ta continue the business, I gotta have someone ta leave it to, ya see, and my two best candidates aren’t any younger than me.”

A frown marred the woman’s pretty features as she tried to puzzle out what was being asked of her. “I’m not sure I’m seeing how this has anything to do with me, Mr.–“

“Shiro. Call me Shiro.” The don interrupted, “Permit me ta be blunt then; I need an heir. Someone with legitimate claim ta my family. Someone I can mold and shape and teach.”

It clicked then, and her eyes widened slightly as she physically edged back in her seat. 

“I will, of course, make it worth yer time.” Shiro added, reaching back into his jacket. He pulled forth a folded stack of cash and he wasn’t shy about laying it down on the table between them. “This is business,” He said, motioning between them, “Nothin’ more. Provide me with the product I want, and I’ll pay handsomely. Yer young still, I know that, young enough that nine months from now, you’ll still be able ta enjoy all the things you do now and more. Maybe you’ll wanna go back ta school,” He shrugged, pulled a few more large bills from his jacket and added them to the stack on the table. “Retire early. Travel, see the world. Maybe build yerself a nice house in Paris. Fall in love and live the life of yer dreams.”

The young lady stared in barely veiled shock, looking between the growing stack on the table, and back up to the don. This man was dangerous, she knew that, everyone knew that.

Shiro didn’t wait for her to catch up, “Think on it.” He said, sliding a paper across the table, but it wasn’t cash this time. In elegant cursive handwriting, a phone number was written in black ink. He took a final sip of his wine and started to stand, taking all that cash with him. In a smooth slight of hand, it was tucked back into his jacket like he’d never had it to begin with. “It’s a lot ta ask, I get that. Like I said; I’m willin’ ta make it worth your time.”

With that, he left. The two men posted at the bar trailed behind him, the big one not saying a word, while the smaller glanced over to meet her eyes, before turning away to follow his superior. The room seemed to part around the mob boss.

Everyone knew who Shirosaki was, and everyone knew not to cross him. But she was allowed to say no.

Ichigo waited until the driver shut the double doors of the don’s car behind them before he started in on the younger. “This is not a good idea, sir, this is not ok.” He said for the hundredth time. “You can’t ask that of a person. You can’t ask her to give you a child, or to spend nine months of her time carrying a child she doesn’t really want, only to give it up to someone she doesn’t know. This is not how we do things.”

Shiro gave him a mild look and blew a ring of smoke into the air above him, “This is exactly how we do things, Ichi, this is how we do business. Everyday. You sayin’ this is worse than pullin’ a gun on someone? I’m givin’ that girl a choice. That’s pretty damn nice a’ me.”

“No, that’s not nice. That’s showing basic humanity-“

“Exactly!” The don half snarled. It was enough to quiet his hitman. “And it’s human ta want a kid ta pass my legacy to. This is the only option I got for that. I’m givin’ that girl the chance of a lifetime. I know it’s a lot. I know that! If she agrees, she’ll be well cared for and when it’s done, she’ll never have ta see me again.”

“You are not prepared for a child, Shiro.” Ichigo’s voice was surprisingly stern. Perhaps more so than the boss had ever heard aimed at him. It was the commanding, no nonsense, no negotiation tone he took with Grimmjow when the hunter needed a firm reminder of his orders to keep him in check.

Unlike with Grimmjow, though, it didn’t faze the don. “What the hell d’you mean ‘I’m not prepared’? How many traditional families d’you know of that are? This kid wont be an accident. It’s planned for. I got the means to take care of it, the funds for anything that could possibly come up or that it could possibly need or want.”

“You’re calling your future child ‘it’.” The hitman drawled, staring his boss and friend in the eye.

Shiro threw up his hands, curled his lip, and pulled out another cigarette, “It’s not even conceived yet. I doubt I’m offendin’ it.”

“You don’t even like women.” Ichigo yet again countered.

“I don’t not like women.” The don assured as he lit up again, “What I don’t like’s when my family is endangered. What I don’t like is my closest friends bein’ killed and my empire threatened. But that’s business, Ichi, just like this is. That’s what we do. That girl knows that. I told her in simple, blunt terms exactly what it was. Besides! I gave her the chance ta opt out, no strings attached. What’re you gonna do when she agrees to it? She’s a consentin’ adult.”

“You can’t ask someone to allow you to impregnate them, carry an unborn child for nine months, and then give it up, just like that.”

“Yes I can, Ichigo, I just fuckin’ did. Now, yer gettin’ on my nerves. You’ll either change your mind or ya wont. One way or another, it’s happenin’, though, and you’ll have ta get over it. You gonna shun an innocent child when it gets here?”

Ichigo’s brow creased even deeper, “No, of course not, but I’m going to be very disappointed in you for-“

“So be it. Yer still gonna follow orders like a good dog.”

At Ichigo’s side, Grimmjow, who had remained remarkably quiet through the whole of the exchange, stiffened at the unspoken threat. There was no real threat in his stance, but Ichigo automatically dropped a hand to his thigh anyway. The handler met his boss’s eye, but there was nothing to say to that. Shiro was right. Ichigo’s loyalty ran too deep to be unsettled by a disagreement. In time, he would have to accept it, or get over it.

It was almost a week later when the don’s personal phone rang and the number came up unknown. He excused himself from the company he kept and ducked down a hall in his mansion as he connected the call, “Miss Inoue,” He greeted with all the smooth confidence that came with being someone of his standing, “Have you thought my proposal over?”

She sounded more like a child over the phone; timid, insecure, “I have, Mr.-“ There was a pause, just before the hard sound of his sir name could come out, “-Shiro.”

A smirk pulled at the mob boss’s features, “Excellent. Would you join me for dinner this evenin’, then? We can further negotiate the terms of our involvement and I’ll introduce ya to the boys you’ll be seein’ most.”

The young lady hesitated, but pushed out a resolute breath, “That would be fine. Where…um.. Should we meet up somewhere or–”

“Whichever you’d be most comfortable with is fine.” Shiro spoke up as she trailed off, knowing exactly what she was getting at.

“I think I would prefer dinner out…”

Shiro wasn’t surprised, nor did he blame her. He was powerful and that made him frightening, no matter his hospitality. Sitting in a mansion full of murderers was just as horrifying. “Very well. I’ll pick ya up around ten. Do you prefer seafood or Italian?”

“Either is fine.”

“Wonderful, Miss Inoue, I look forward ta dinner.” The don eased back into his office, catching the looks aimed at him, “If you have any other questions or thoughts between now and then, yer on my personal line, feel free ta call back.” He waited for the quiet words of gratitude on the other end, before he disconnected the call.

The look on his face was all Ichigo and his hunter needed to know what his unexpected call was about and that he’d gotten what he wanted, as he always did.

Later that evening, the don rounded up his two best men, who accompanied him nearly everywhere. He handed an address to his driver as he climbed into the back seat of his car. 

The young woman he’d contacted lived on the opposite side of the city, in a quaint little edition in an upscale, nicer neighborhood. It was probably a good place to raise kids, Shiro decided, as he stubbed out a cigarette and watched the houses go by. Even with as much money as there obviously was in the area, the few people out tending gardens and flowerbeds and walking their dogs turned to watch him go by. Well, not him personally. The windows were far too darkly tinted for that. They watched his car, probably oblivious to the criminal lord within.

It wasn’t hard to recognize how much a vehicle like his was worth. All black, there wasn’t a scratch on it. The windows were dark to match, the rims chrome and polished. The door handles matched. But what really made the car stand out was that it was just a touch too long to be a normal car, but not quite long enough to be a limo, and the two doors on each side -not including the driver’s and passenger’s doors- faced one another to swing open like the double doors of a building.

Suicide doors, Shiro’s internal monologue provided. He’d had the car customized purely for those doors. Just like the mobsters of old used to have, like all his favorite movies. It made it easier to dump a body while driving down the street; a wider exit that didn’t require as much jockeying. 

Of course now he’d never dump a body from his moving vehicle. Technology had advanced too far for that. A body that readily available would be too easy to trace back to him. But he liked the sentiment anyway.

The woman must have been waiting for them because, as the car parked and the driver opened Shiro’s door to allow the don to step free, the front door of the small house eased open.

Shiro stepped aside -though his driver still held the door- to let the woman enter the car before him. There was color in her cheeks as she quietly climbed in.

“Sit on the left, if ya would.” He instructed, despite that on the right sat his two men. Then he followed to sit at her side, across from his hitmen, and the door was absently pushed closed behind him as he settled.

The don crossed an ankle over the knee of his other leg, his ever present smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. The door was shut behind them. It was a sound and action the don and his men were long accustomed to, but for his guest, it had a ring of finality that was slightly unsettling. Being shut away in a small space filled with killers was enough to make anyone a bit nervous.

The edge to her unease showed in her fair features and the closed off way she clasped her hands in her lap until her knuckles were white.

After a moment, when the car had pulled from the driveway and began coasting through suburban streets again, Shirosaki broke the tenseness with that iconic, distorted voice, “Miss Inoue, these ‘re my two best men. You’ll likely be seein’ a lotta ‘em, now that yer temporarily joinin’ the family.” He motioned toward the smaller of the two sitting across from himself and his guest, “Ichigo,” he introduced like any good gentlemen, “and his partner, Grimmjow. If you ever can’t contact me for whatever reason, these two‘ll make sure yer well taken care of.”

It was a little forced, perhaps, but a shy little smile found the young lady’s features as she let out a small, “Thank you.” She glanced the two over, unsure if she should be introducing herself back. She ultimately assumed that should have been her host’s job, and that since he didn’t do it, they probably already knew who she was. It was an unsurprising thought, if not a bit intimidating. Her attention lingered on the smaller of the two men that sat across from her. He was far… softer, less cold looking than the other. Even more so than Shirosaki himself was. “It’s nice to meet you two.”

“Likewise,” Ichigo said with a polite smile, mostly just trying to put her at ease. It was easy to see she was nervous, and understandably so.

The drive wasn’t a long one, though it wasn’t short either. By the time they’d made it to the restaurant of the don’s choice -closer to his side of town- the city lights were on; streets and signs lit up, and headlights flashing this way and that.

The car was pulled up to the very front entrance and the driver ushered the valet back a few steps as he rounded the side and opened the door for his boss. The small crowd of guests coming and going paused to watch as Shirosaki, in his white suit, with his long hair tied back in a simple tail, stepped from the vehicle. He paused to hold a hand out to his guest, making note of how small and dainty the girl’s fingers were in his hand as he offered her assistance.

She’d chosen her outfit wisely, he noted; a simple but elegant black dress that contrasted sharply while she stood at his side.

The front door was pulled open by a hostess and the don was greeted by his sir name. Orihime saw the slight cringe that creased his features as he motioned for her to proceed him. They were flanked by Shiro’s hired men as they were shown to a table on the far side of the restaurant, away from windows and the entrance.

As was usual for him, Shiro ordered wine and told his guest to have whatever she liked, that the tab was his to be concerned about, and he wasn’t concerned. The little comment earned a small smile as drinks and meals were ordered. 

The four of them sat around a table in low lighting, sipping wine as they waited on dinner. After a few minutes of being in the don’s presence, it was easy to start relaxing a bit. The man was powerful and dangerous for sure, but when his temper wasn’t getting the better of him, he seemed like a nice enough guy. Charming, in his own way. And his friends were much the same, especially the smaller of the two.

During one particularly well timed moment, they both took a sip of their wine at the same time and the woman noted how similar their mannerisms were. She studied the lower ranking man’s, Ichigo’s, profile for a moment, until she realized the blue haired man had caught her. Her features heated slightly, than she turned back to the pale man at her side. As soft spoken as she’d been this meeting, when she did speak up, it didn’t take her much to earn the don’s attention. “Are you two related?” She asked, starting to forget her unease as she spent more time around them.

Grimmjow barked a laugh, not shy about his amusement in the least, and Shiro snorted, a twisted grin on his features. 

Ichigo choked, but set his glass down and took a moment to recover before shaking his head, “No, thankfully.”

“Well don’t say that,” Shiro interjected, motioning across the table, that over wide grin still in place. “You don’t know who your old man was or where he is, and mine was known ta run ‘round behind my mamma’s back in his day. He coulda knocked up your mum before he got ta mine.”

Ichigo paused, staring almost deadpan across the table. “No.” He denied simply, then shook his head again, a smile finally winning out, “If I was though, I’d feel like I failed as an older brother.”

The don lilted a laugh, tossing up his hands in mock defeat, “C’mon, I turned out pretty good! I’d be proud ta call me my younger brother, if I was you.”

“Of course you would,” Ichigo shook his head but his exasperation was good natured. Beside him, Grimmjow’s mirth over the short debate was obvious.

The three were so casual and calm around each other, obviously comfortable in each other’s presence despite their chosen professions or that to insult someone like Shirosaki could have been a death sentence. It seemed so normal, so average, like three friends out to have a good time and nothing more. The simple exchange went a long way in putting the don’s guest and future business partner at ease.

As the night wore on and dinner arrived, Orihime honestly found herself enjoying the company. Conversation came easy and every word she said was paid attention to and given due response, whether it be a question she asked, or a comment she made. She was treated with a surprising amount of respect, and part of her assumed it was simply because of the agreement she was entering into with the don, yet the man treated his subordinates with the same respect. He valued them and it showed. She thought, maybe, she would have that same value to him.

It wasn’t until dessert was ordered, dishes were cleared, wine refilled and said dessert had arrived that Shirosaki brought business up. He took the first bite of his expensive delicacy, deciding it was up to par, before he half turned in his seat to better speak with the woman at his side, “So ya’ve thought over my proposal, then?” Of course he’d asked much the same over the phone, but he wished to reaffirm the answer, especially in front of his men as witnesses.

With the return to seriousness, the woman withdrew just a little. She nodded, “I have.”

Shiro matched her nod and if he shared any of her nervousness and reservation at all, it didn’t show. Though, nor did he seem to take the situation lightly and she supposed he had as much at stake in all this as she did.

“Excellent. Then the deed’ll be done as soon as possible. All of your expenses will be mine ta handle; doctors, maternity leave and the funds needed, supplies, what have ya. Once it starts showin’, I’d prefer ya stay in the mansion for safety’s sake, but we can negotiate that when the time comes. Under no circumstances is anyone ta know who the father is, understand?” He gave her the most stern look she’d seen from him yet, “Keep it a secret as long as ya can, and if asked, tell ‘em ya don’t know or make somethin’ up, but don’t give ‘em my name.” He paused, making sure that what he was saying was sinking in, “This is more of a liability for me than it is for you, but it will become your liability if it’s found out that I’m the father. This is a very dangerous world, I’d prefer ta keep ya on the sidelines and let ya slip away quietly when it’s done.”

Orihime nodded a very subtle motion, large eyes trained on the pale man she’d soon be courting. “I understand…”

“And you’re still willing to accept my offer?” Colorless brows arched in question. Absently, the don sipped his dark wine, eyes trained on her over the rim of his cup. When he set it down, “This is your last chance ta back out. If you agree now, ya don’t getta change your mind later. Not before, not durin’, not after. You’re bound ta the contract till after the baby’s born.”

The woman glanced around the table briefly, her gaze finding first Grimmjow, than lingering on Ichigo momentarily, before coasting back to the don who sat at her side. She nodded again, “You have something you want that I can give, and I have something I want, that you can give. When should we… Is this happening tonight?”

Relieved by the confession -because this was the way business worked and this was something he understood- though he wouldn’t say as much and certainly didn’t allow it to show, Shirosaki leaned back in his seat again, plucking up his fork to start in on his dessert in ernest. “It doesn’t have to,” He told her, a pleased expression on his handsome, if unique, features, “but if you’d prefer ta get it outta the way, I wont be offended.”

The woman seemed as if unable to fathom a reply, and sputtered a mildly embarrassed, “don’t say it that way.” She shook her head, and looked down at her drink, “You say it as if you’re not at least attractive. All I ask is to be treated well…”  “I assure you, you will be, Miss Inoue. I treat those who do favors for me very well and this is a very big favor.”

Orhime nodded again and wondered how much lying mobsters did, but he’d seemed remarkably genuine and honest thus far, so when he suggested they at least check out the mansion, so that she might grow a little more familiar and comfortable with him and his, she agreed.

Though she was fortunate enough to have a job and house, she wasn’t exactly well off. It would have been a lie to say that walking through the fancy setting, in a little black dress and arm in arm with an obviously very high standing man, wasn’t flattering, thrilling even. The pair turned heads and that was a good feeling. At her side, the don smirked that confident expression, like the eyes on him were as much a part of his ensemble as the silk tie he wore daily. Orihime listened to the ring of her heals on the polished tile, and not the whispers about them.

They climbed into his car -a vehicle with a price tag higher than Orihime’s house- and without prompt, the driver turned them toward the don’s home.

The city passed by in a repeating pattern of the fleeting brightness of street lights and steady, all-consuming darkness of night. Like that of his pale complexion and spotless attire compared to the dirty, gritty work he did, she would later come to realize that the contrast very much suited the don and all that he was. His charm was a spark; enough to gain attention and captivate, enough to burn while his darkness was roiling below the surface, readily seen in those odd eyes of his, if only one could look past that brilliant, all consuming spark.

But that’s what the don was good at. Charm aplenty, and if you didn’t fall for that charm, than he had no need for you, and those Shiro had no use for didn’t last long in his city.

He’d told her she had a choice, that she could back out if she wished, but did one ever truly walk away clean once the mafia showed interest? Not likely. It was a game of cat and mouse from the start; the mouse could run and run and run. It could even get lucky a few times, but trapped in a house with a cat, the cat only needed to get lucky once and the game was over.

The don tossed the word around so casually, calling his home the mansion, but despite his lack of modesty about it, the young lady was still taken aback by the sheer size of the building and its grounds as the car they rode in turned into a gated drive. The paved path made a circle in the front yard, making for easy comings and goings. The grassy space in the center was landscaped and well manicured. The stairs leading up to the grand entrance were marble, a doorman on either side to await them in the looming shadows of the building itself.

Orihime took it all in as the car pulled lazily around the circle, easing to a smooth stop before the front. This time the driver remained in his seat and the door was instead pulled open by one of the two men posted before the doors of the don’s mansion. Shiro climbed from the car first, offering her a hand as she slid across the leather seat and stood also. She accepted the offer, taking the man’s hand as she was guided up the steps and through the front door.

If the building itself and the lawn were impressive, the inside was even more so, with its high arching ceiling, crystal chandelier, and polished floor. It was something out of a movie; all very elegant, all very showy, just like the don himself.

“After tanight,” Shiro said, releasing the young lady’s arm, “you’ll have clearance ta enter as ya wish. Call ahead though. The boys at the door don’t handle surprises well.” He chuckled like it was a joke, like the matter was a light one, but even that amusement held something more.

Even so, the sound was a happy one, and a slight smile graced Orihime’s fair features. It was a simple request, easily followed, after all.

Not even a full five minutes after their arrival, the don’s phone went off with a single, quiet chime where it was tucked away in a pocket. Pale brows arched mildly, before the man pulled the phone free. He smiled a charming apology and connected the call as he lifted it to his ear. Without a greeting, he stated simply and shortly, “I have company. Is it important?” His tone wasn’t exactly aggressive, but it wasn’t exactly pleased either. 

Orihime glanced over at Ichigo, a bit unsure of what she should do.

Still on the phone, Shiro’s pleasant smile started to lesson, a look of barely veiled annoyance overcoming his expression. “Did ya try callin’ Byakuya first? Ya knew I had prior commitments this evenin’-“ A tell tail curl lifted the don’s lip as his words broke off.

Ichigo pushed a smile across his features, “Miss Inoue, if you wouldn’t mind, how about we continue our tour and let Shiro catch up?” He glanced across at his boss and caught the man’s inverted eyes, earning a nod. Redirecting his attention at their guest, he held an arm out and allowed the young lady take his arm as they continued away from the front entrance.

Shiro started off down a side wing, his brisk but un-panicked footsteps covered by the sharp sound of Orihime’s heels upon his expensive tile flooring.

“While we’ve got the chance,” Ichigo began, his tone smooth and unworried in the equally peaceful hallway, “there are a few more things you should know about Shiro and your time here.” The look that was turned on him was one of slight unease, maybe a bit of trepidation. “It’s nothing to worry overly about. Just some things to keep in mind,” He assured, “The don doesn’t take kindly to assumptions. If there’s something you don’t know, ask. If it’s something you shouldn’t know, he’ll tell you that. If he does tell you that, be done with it and don’t bring it back up. If he tells you to do something within reason, like call ahead before showing up, please do it. It’s for your own benefit as much as his.” Ichigo kept their pace relaxed and easy as they walked, not wanting to make the poor girl any more nervous than necessary. The situation was surely already overwhelming as it was. He shook his head in an exasperated but fond way, and glanced across at her again as he continued, “Shiro’s not a bad guy, no matter what you have or may hear. He’s only dangerous if given a reason, but he can be a bit temperamental at times. If for whatever you’re uncomfortable talking to him or with something he’s asked you to do, you can come to myself or Grimmjow about it, even if it’s about Shiro himself.”

A hint of color rose in the girl’s cheeks and she looked down towards her feet for a moment, before back at the man who’s side she walked at. “Thank you,” Her voice was as polite as it was quiet.

“Think nothing of it. We know this is a lot to ask. We’ll do what we can to make you as comfortable and happy as possible.” At Ichigo’s other side, Grimmjow eyed the woman and her actions, but said nothing and let his partner handle this. Ichigo continued, “Thank you for accepting his offer. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.”

At that, Grimmjow frowned and did speak up, “Careful, Ichigo, Shiro wants to keep her out of the rest of his business.”

Ichigo frowned right back, “Yes, but if she’s to come and go regularly, and eventually stay in the mansion, there’s things she’ll have to know and things she’ll learn anyway. She can know a good friend was lost without knowing the details. It’s a touchy subject for him. It’s important.”

Orihime started to let out something of a sad, regretful sound, meaning to offer her condolences, when the sound of approaching steps brought her around. Grimmjow and Ichigo turned as well, expecting the don’s return. Instead, Orhime was met with the sight of a tall, lean figure, clearly male, though masculine wasn’t a term she would have described him with.

“Doctor.” Ichigo greeted, something rather formal and tight about his voice.

The doctor ignored him, his cunning yellow eyes taking in Orhime’s person. He looked her up and down with a clinical eye, “So you’re to be his new fancy?” He asked, a sly little tilt to the corners of his lips, “He must have a thing for redheads.”

“Was…” Orhime looked from the doctor, to Ichigo, “Was there another girl?”

“No, you’re the only girl.” Ichigo assured, not quite glaring the doctor down. Despite that he had to look up at that slim man, there was no inferiority or intimidation in the handler. “Be nice, Szayel. If you scare her away, or stress her out, Shiro will not be happy.”

The doctor rolled his eyes, “Quit your mothering, Kurosaki, and save your warnings. Who do you think helped him pick her out?” He shook his head and went right back to studying Orihime as he would a specimen to be dissected, “I just hadn’t seen your physical appearance yet. We took the liberty of looking at your family history before contacting you, Miss, to insure that any offspring would be genetically sound and healthy.”

“O-oh…” Orihime hesitated, surrounded by powerful men in a building she knew she’d never leave if they didn’t allow it. She squared her shoulders a bit and pulled her arm from where it’d been looped in Ichigo’s, her new employer’s best man, and clasped her hands behind her back. “Are you to be my new doctor then?”

“Oh no,” Szayel half laughed a chiming sound, “Pediatrics and maternity are not my forte. I will be of assistance, though, should an emergency or something untold occur. Better a doctor that’s on hand than no doctor. I will, however, be helping the boss choose your new doctor.”

“I wont get a say in that?” She asked.

Szayel shrugged a light, one shouldered motion, “You will, I assume, if you meet your doctor and decide you don’t like him or her for whatever reason and make your concerns known. I can tell him you’d like to help choose someone, if you like.”

She nodded slightly, “I would appreciate that.”

“Excellent. I’ll let him know.” Szayel started to brush by them, continuing in the direction he’d been going and heading further into the mansion without another word. 

Orhime turned to watch him go, something of a frown on her features. “He’s very odd.” She admitted.

“He is.” Ichigo agreed, “Come. We’ll await Shiro in the lounge, where it’s more comfortable.” They continued as well, at a more relaxed pace than the doctor. Ichigo could only assume he was headed either for the office he preformed his medical exams and experiments in, or the don’s room to finish removing whatever he’d left in there. He said nothing of the possibilities though. “Dr. Granz can be a bit…abrasive, but he’s good at what he does. Don’t let him get away with tormenting you.”

Orhime breathed a soft laugh, “I wont. What did he mean by redheads? …..is the– Is Shiro interested in…you, as well?”

The moment the question processed, Grimmjow burst into unashamed laughter. Even Ichigo coughed a laugh, and shook his head. “No, not me, thankfully. The doctor was referring to-“ himself, obviously, but being unsure how much the boss would want revealed to his new conquest, Ichigo settled for vaguely explaining, “Shiro’s last, uh, partner, who is a redhead, though not nearly the same shade as you. I think, in this case, that’s something you’ll have to talk about with Shiro if you want to know more.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I was just…you told me to ask…if I had questions. I just-” 

A moment longer of walking through the mostly deserted hallway found them at a set of tall double doors. Grimmjow pushed one open, the weight of it obvious in the way he did so, leaning a bit of his weight into it. Standing before them, he held it open and Orihime thanked him quietly as she stepped through, followed by her escort.

The doorway opened up into a large dining hall with a long table and high-backed chairs. There was another doorway with double swinging doors to the left, at the far side of the room. Orhime assumed correctly when her first thought was the kitchen. Ichigo confirmed as much when he announced this as the boss’s dining room and kitchen, though they wouldn’t be going back there. The mansion had its own chefs, he told her offhandedly, before turning right to follow the outer edge of the room. On this side, there was another arching, open doorway. Despite no door to block off the view of the room beyond, all that was visible from the dinning room was another wall. As it was, the doorway emptied into a short corridor that was far smaller than the main ones and only allowed one to go left.

This short hallway spilled out into what Ichigo had referred to as the lounge. A fireplace occupied one wall, a large television hanging above it. Oddly enough, old movie posters decorated the darkly painted walls; a few western cliches, a few action posters, several mafia classics. Another crystal chandelier hung above their heads, giving the windowless room an inviting atmosphere. Arrayed around the large room, several pieces of leather furniture helped to close the space into a comfortable sitting area.

It was easy to imagine the powerful mobster entertaining guests here, playing his game of high society and glamorized crime.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Ichigo invited, “Our home is quite large. I’m sure it’ll take time to figure out your way around, but this is perhaps one of the more frequented areas. Once you’ve been granted clearance to explore at will, you’ll have free roam over most of the mansion. Anything you’re not supposed to see will be kept behind locked doors. Except Shiro’s chambers. I assume he’ll give you a key.”

They didn’t wait long for the boss. Shiro peeked around the corner as he walked into the room to find them. “Ah! I thought maybe you’d end up here.” The confident little smirk was back on his features like the phone call hadn’t stolen it from him. A freshly lit cigarette perched between his pale, upturned lips and he’d taken his white jacket off. The article was folded neatly over one arm, “What d’ya think of my home, so far?”

“It’s certainly large.” She admitted, tucking her dress close as she took a seat upon the leather couch nearest her. “And a little intimidating.”

“That’s exactly what I like ta hear.” Shiro threw her a quick wink as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and blew a ring of smoke into the air above his head.

The woman’s features tinted a healthy pink, her large eyes automatically dropping slightly to cut across his figure as he walked closer, before she yanked her attention from him altogether.

“Shiro, behave yourself. She just got here.” Ichigo admonished, mildly embarrassed for their guest.

Shiro frowned a goodnatured expression over at his hitman as he took a place beside his guest, sitting close to her side, but not stiflingly so. “I thought we just decided at dinner that you weren’t my big brother, Ichigo.”

“Yes, but you apparently need one to teach you how to act around a lady.”

Shiro snorted, draping his jacket over the arm of the leather sofa at his other side. “Nonsense. I’m flatterin’ and ya know it.”

Ichigo sighed an exasperated breath, shaking his head.

At his side, Grimmjow grinned, “He knows. He hates that you’re right.” He got elbowed for it, but laughed through his grunt.

Orihime glanced between the two, watching the way they interact. Clearly they had a very close partnership. She smiled at the closeness of the don’s –Shiro’s, she reminded herself. He’d said to call him Shiro. – of Shiro’s little circle. A family; brothers, the three of them. 

After some good natured banter, a fair deal of it at Ichigo’s expense and a few jabs thrown by him at the other two, they eventually continued their little tour, this time with the mansion’s owner present.

As usual, Shiro made a surprisingly charming host as they wandered through long halls and met a few of the occupants. They bypassed an entire wing, the don explaining simply that it contained nothing of interest, unless the bedrooms of his men were of interest. Orihime flushed red and only quit stammering her denial when Ichigo assured her that was just Shiro’s sense of humor talking, and nothing to worry over. At one point in their walk of the man’s home, they made it to a downward sloping hall. A set of large, windowless double doors blocked the view of what lay beyond. This was another spot of little explanation and the don told her it was the basement, and that unless there was a serious emergency the nature of which he wouldn’t go into, she would never see the interior.

After her tour and all the questions she could think of, Orihime was shown home. The don walked her to his car, but didn’t accompany her on her drive home. Even without the boss there, the driver parked before her house -modest, small even, in comparison to the mansion- rounded the vehicle, and opened her door for her. He bowed slightly, silent, as she thanked him, and didn’t climb back into the car until she’d let herself into her home and had shut the door behind her.

It was their second official meeting that the business they agreed to conduct began. It was an odd agreement, and an odd thing to put a timetable to, but Shiro had other things to worry about and a schedule to keep, both long and short term, and Orihime herself wasn’t looking to get attached. After all this was over and the mobster had what he wanted, she planned to put the whole ordeal behind her. Besides, people payed good money for surrogate mothers, a healthy woman to carry a hard sought after child destined for a great family, all the time. This wasn’t all that different.

And it paid better.

They didn’t jump straight into it, though, not quite. The don understood how awkward this was, how strange.

Like before, they had dinner first, the conversation casual and even light, despite the fine setting and finer food and the clothing that cost more than Orihime’s first car had. And again, just like before, it wasn’t until dessert that Shirosaki brought business up. He suggested they move things along, if she was comfortable with it, “Or… as comfortable with it as I can make you.” He’d amended with a charming little smile and a gesture of his fork. He was hard not to like, which made it a little easier when Orihime realized that, if they weren’t to get on with it, there was no reason for them to meet up like this. So she agreed, glancing down at her dessert as she apologized for her reservations and shyness.

An hour or so later saw them at the don’s personal rooms. His men had trailed them all of dinner and even through the front entrance of the mansion, yet they’d as good as vanished by the time they entered the hall that led to his quarters.

Once unlocked, he held the door for her and Orihime was given her first look of the man’s home past all the formalities and ranks and the show he put on. The private space was by no means small, but surprisingly modest in decor. The walls were plain and of neutral color. Dark, floor length curtains took up either side of large, flatscreen TV mounted on the wall opposite the entryway. The back of a leather couch faced them, looking towards the television and the windows hidden behind the curtains. The entire space was longer than it was wide. Off to one side, the suite expanded into a small kitchen with a solid granite countertop and table. It was fully furnished, but spotless and didn’t look as if used often. Passed that, another double doorway with heavy, arching doors to close it off opened up into a sprawling bedroom. The colors were darker than the rest of the flat; greys and blacks rather than warm, neutral tones. The bed itself was massive with dark, silken sheets and more pillows than fully necessary. A crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling but the light was surprisingly soft.

Unlike her last tour of the mansion, Shiro wasn’t quite so talkative and cheery as before. He was no less of a gentlemen and fine host on their way through his personal space, though. This was just that; his personal space, the place where he was able to leave his business and title behind him and relax in comfort.

After a moment of letting her take the room in, the don shrugged from his shirt, almost meticulous in the way he folded it over the frame of the large bed. His usual smirk still rested on his lips, and there was no tremble to his limbs, but Orhime thought that maybe he was as nervous as she was.

She swallowed and couldn’t help but let her attention flicker down the exposed skin. There were scars decorating his torso here and there, some of them quite harsh, but all were pale like the rest of him and none of them detracted from his handsomeness. He was, she decided as she tried to ignore the heat in her face, quite attractive in an exotic, dangerous sort of way. Like the character from the movie that every woman thought she wanted.

With a fortified breath, she sat down on the edge of the bed and reached behind herself to begin unzipping her dress.

A warm hand settled over hers as Shiro knelt upon the bed as well, shifting so that he was partially behind her. He finished the task for her, quiet and surprisingly delicate about it. Then his fingertips danced in light trails up her bared back to slip below the shoulder straps of the dress, pushing them free. He leaned in close, so that his breath was warm against the back of her neck, “You’ll have ta forgive me,” He chuckled, “if I’m a bit clumsy. I haven’t been with a woman since I was… thirteen? fourteen? And it’s been nearly as many years since then.”

She turned to face him, the confession oddly comforting; endearing, maybe. A light smile found her features, framed by just a touch of pink in her cheeks. “You usually prefer men?”

He nodded, open and honest with his answer, “But I’ve never been real good at followin’ the rules.”

She laughed a soft sound, a shiver working up her spine at the warmth of the fingers on her bare skin.

Shiro trailed his fingertips up the back of her neck as he took in her features, before his fingers found the pin in her hair. Slipping it free, long, orange locks fell to frame her round face and cascade around her shoulders. He took his time, taking in the sight as he took a few soft strands between his fingers.

Warm eyes edged away from that studying, slightly unnerving glance. There was nothing malicious or threatening in it, but the don was intense in all ways, even when there was a softness to him. “Was– was I your first choice?” She asked, “When you…decided you wanted a child?”

“You were, actually.” Shiro answered, honest with her again as he bent to begin untying his shoes. He spoke as he worked the laces, “I guess it must sound a little creepy, but I was very careful in my research and selection. Of course I had a handful of other candidates in mind, for if you declined my offer, but after seein’ you in person…” He trailed off, kicked out of his shoes, and began working the buckle of his belt. His answer was so simple, so sincere, “You’re beautiful.”

The young woman smiled, her features soft, despite that she spoke with a known murderer. He seemed so far from dangerous like this. “You’re very sweet, Shiro. I thought, when we were first going over details and even right up until now, that this would be difficult for me… but you’re making it very easy. I was expecting you to be more…” She trailed off, gesturing.

“Scary?” The don matched her laugh, his smile widening further into something more characteristic of him. “Well, Miss Inoue, I wont lie to ya. I can certainly be scary, especially when I try ta cook, but you’ve nothin’ ta worry about. I’ll make sure my chef takes care of breakfast in the mornin’.”

Orihime laughed again, even as pale fingers pushed the smooth black cloth further down her torso, exposing the lace of her bra and the skin of her stomach. “Well, don Shirosaki, I think that if you’re as suave in all things as you are at hosting dinner and entertaining guests, clumsiness will not be an issue.”

“Lets hope not.” White, perfectly pressed pants fell to the floor as the don stood and faced her fully, and descended predator-like upon his guest. Orihime gasped a quiet, surprised sound as a warm hand found the side of her throat, brushing her hair away to make room for pale lips. The weight that started to ease her back against the bed was surprisingly comfortable. A second hand found her inner thigh, just above her knee and while the touch wasn’t outright lewd or too forward, it certainly wasn’t innocent either. A shiver worked up her spine as that hand inched upward and, after only a slight moment of hesitation, she settled her own hands against pale skin.

Little black panties fell to the floor, discarded with the don’s white pants. She arched as he -surprisingly gentle, but intense- started with his fingers.

The thin fabric of her dress bunched around her hips as he wrapped his free arm around behind her back and repositioned her further onto the bed. There was a strong, not quite hurried way to his movements, intensity aplenty, but it wasn’t a rough touch.

With long legs wrapped tight around his hips, Shiro bent close to her as he eased his way into wet, tight heat. He wasn’t shy about his pleasure, breathing a moaning sound against her neck. She arched up into him, her fingers threading through long, white hair as her head fell back and a panted cry left her parted lips. He used the arm still slung around her waist to pull her up, tighter against his lower half, burying himself deeper.

With his weight resting on the elbow he had on the pillow by her head, knelt between her spread legs, the don worked to make this as pleasurable for her as it was for him. When she gasped for more, for harder, he did so, quickening his pace. His lips didn’t find hers, but they left hot, panting trails across the delicate line of her throat, her collarbone, over her shoulder, as he let short, quiet sounds of pleasure mark his every thrust.

She breathed his name, pulled his hair, shuddered below him and thought, in the back of her mind, maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad arrangement after all. 

When they were done, the air was warm with in their wake. The don pulled himself free to lay at her side upon the massive bed. There was no cuddling or holding, but he didn’t push her away, either. Not bothering with a clean up, he dragged the blankets over them, rolling onto his side to pull the edge up and watch the way the silk slid over her skin.

Orihime woke up to an empty bed. The shower was running when she gathered the blanket up around herself as she sat up, listening to the muted sound of running water. Thinking of the night before, her features heated, before she stood and began searching for her discarded dress and underwear.

The water shut off and the previously closed bathroom door creaked open. Naked aside from the black towel wrapped around his waist, Shiro stepped from the steam filled room with a smirk on his face. “There’s plenty a’ hot water, if you wanna shower.”

The woman paused, a little heat flushing her features as her gaze automatically shuffled down his figure before shifting off to the side. She held her dress up, wrapped half around her to cover the majority of her nakedness, but realized how silly that was after the night they shared. “I would like that,” She decided, unsure how to feel about what they’d done or what they would do.

“Very well. There’s a clean towel in there, I’ve already taken the liberty of sendin’ someone ta your house to grab some clean clothes for you ta wear for breakfast. Do you remember where the dining hall is, or should I stick around and escort you?”

“Um… I’m sure I can…” 

Seeing her hesitation, Shiro smiled, crossing the room to his closet. “I’ll escort you.” He assured as he pulled out a clean pair of white slacks and a dark button up shirt. 

She matched his smile, something like veiled relief riding the breath she exhaled. The don made a waving motion with his hand as he dropped the towel from around his waist. Orihime flushed bright red as she took the cue to rush off to her shower, leaving the man to dress in private.

When she was finished, two stacks of clean clothing sat on the countertop next to a towel; another of her fancy little black dresses and the most expensive formal dress slacks and blouse she owned. She started to grab the pants, before changing her mind and pulling the dress on instead, already realizing his preferences despite being given an option.

Shiro was waiting patiently in the sitting area of his suite. He did nothing to hide the approving sweep of her figure his eyes did as he turned for the door, holding it open like a gentleman. “After breakfast, you’ll be free ta go if you like, or stay a while. It’s upta you. After today, you’ll have clearance ta come and go as ya please, so long as you’re careful about it.”

She nodded her understanding. Another preference of his; secrecy, privacy, and forewarning of her presence. But she realized it was as much for her safety as his own. 

They arrived at the large dining hall she’d been shown the night before as places were being set by staff. Ichigo and Grimmjow were already there, but no other members of Shirosaki’s team were present. They greeted her as friendly and respectfully as they did their boss.

 Breakfast wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t dragged out either and even though she’d been given the choice, she felt as if her presence wasn’t quite wanted at that moment. The don was just as cordial as he’d been at their dinner the night prior, but the phone he kept on him at all times stayed in hand and every few minutes the barely there buzz of a silenced ringtone went off. He’d check the message, his features unreadable, then go back to entertaining his guest and men.

After plates were cleared, she decided to excuse herself from the mansion for the day.

“I’m terribly sorry about bein’ distracted through breakfast, Miss Inoue.” Shiro said as he walked her down the hall, back to the front entrance. A car already awaited them out front, the engine on. “Unfortunately business calls. I’ll have ta leave ya in the care of my driver. He’ll see that ya get home safely.”

“Oh, but I left-“

“I’ll have your dress cleaned and returned to ya the next time you’re over.” The driver opened the backdoor of the vehicle for her, but Shiro stepped up to the car with her, watching as she slid in. There was a hint of mischief on his pale features as he continued as if uninterrupted, “I greatly look forward to our next meeting.”

She wasn’t given the chance to respond. The car door was closed behind her and Shiro tucked his hands into his pockets, nodding his goodbyes as the vehicle was put into gear. Orhime turned to watch him and the front of the massive building looming behind him so casually as the car began pulling away.

A single wave of a hand brought one of the door guards over as Shiro watched the car pull away. The man leaned in close as his boss spoke. 

“I want a man keepin’ an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t talk ta anyone about this. Make sure she doesn’t change her mind.” 

“Yessir.”

Pushing the most benevolent smirk across his features he could manage, the don sent a last wave towards the car nearing the end of his drive, then turned on his heel and disappeared inside his mansion. 

Business called. He had an empire to run.


	2. Chapter 2

A harsh breath of blueish smoke curled through the air with the don’s annoyed sigh. He pulled the cigarette from between his lips, flicking it off to the side as he glanced down at his watch. The bright red cherry glowed in the evening gloom as it bounced across dirty blacktop. “I’ve got a date, friend, gotta leave in ten minutes. Know what that means for you?” He looked back up at the man one of his men had been working over and didn’t wait for an answer. As he continued, he pulled his favored gun from the confines of his jacket, “Means you got ten minutes ta figure out how ta make me real happy before I paint the wall with your brains.”

Eleven minutes later, a gunshot echoed through the alleyway.

Shiro pulled a new cigarette from the carton in his pocket and lit up as he climbed into the backseat of his car. His driver already knew where to go next. That date.

Their arrangement had been in place for a few months now without much luck. While whispers circulated and some even thought the novelty of the idea would wear off and Shiro would give up, Szayel assured him that it simply took time; he was healthy, the woman he’d chosen was healthy. It would happen if they kept at it. So he took her out at least once a week, sometimes two or three times, before they headed back to the mansion for the night. It was business and it was a longterm commitment before he even received the product he wanted, but he did his best to keep to his promise. Ichigo wouldn’t have allowed anything else, of course, but that had very little to do with it. Shiro may have been a mafia don, but he wasn’t inhumane and he wasn’t naive and at the heart of him, as long as you didn’t cross him, he wasn’t a bad guy either. The better he treated the mother of his future child, the smoother things would go in the long run. It was all part of the business.

He was a few minutes late getting across town and the annoyance about it surely showed in his mannerisms when his car finally pulled into the drive of the modest house that had grown familiar by now, though the don rarely stepped foot inside and never stayed. In a fleeting thought, he wondered what her neighbors must have thought, seeing his car regularly, and what she told them when they started asking questions.

Despite his dampened mood, Shiro did his best to pour on that charm, no matter how much of a show it really was. He held the door to his car for her as she climbed in, before following behind her to slide into the seat next to her. “Sorry ‘bout not bein’ punctual. Clocked a little overtime taday.” His smile was sharp and a bit forced, but the malevolence in it wasn’t aimed at the young lady.

Orihime smiled like she didn’t know what that probably meant and excused him, before she dared to give him a more thorough look over. Like their previous meetings, he wore his iconic white suit, everything about him pristine while out in public. The only downside to his image was that it showed even the slightest blemish. Clearing her throat a little, she gestured awkwardly to the tiny splash of bright red that had beaded along the front of his fitted suit jacket, near one of the buttons. Drying, it was darkening into an ugly and unmistakable stain.

Shiro glanced down at himself and threw a hand up in annoyance and surrender, “Ah, unbelievable. Forgive me.” He quickly began shrugging from the jacket, making the task look effortless even in the smaller confines of the car. “Guess this suit’s ruined.” He chuckled as he folded the jacket up and laid it across the seat opposite them, continuing as if she hadn’t just pointed out the blood splashed across him. He quickly straightened his white tie and checked over the dark button up he wore as he spoke. “You sure all you wanna do is see a movie? Ya know we can afford anything you want, you don’t have ta be so modest.”

The young lady eyed the jacket a moment longer, before pushing the rising in her stomach back down. She crossed her legs and shifted to lean towards him a little, making herself comfortable at his side. The arm he had thrown over the back of the seat behind her as he leaned back again didn’t drop to wrap her shoulders, but deft fingers found a lock of her hair to twirl. That little ‘we’ in his words brought a small tilt to her lips as she nodded, “I know, but how often do you actually go to the theater?” When he arched a brow but had to think about it, she smiled a little wider. “It’ll be fun, we can get stale theater popcorn with too much butter on top and not enough at the bottom and fountain soda.”

A look of mock horror crossed the don’s pale features, but it was obvious that a smirk was trying to win through, “You mean I have ta dine like everyone else? No wine? You gonna tell me I can’t smoke too?”

Orihime laughed, “You can have a glass and a cigarette once we leave the theater.”

“Not sure how I feel ‘bout these rules…” But it was all in good fun and she’d been right. Shiro hadn’t seen a movie in the theaters since he’d been just a kid. One of his father’s men had taken him. Shiro had, years later, decided it had been out of pity; an excuse to get him out of the mansion, out of his father’s sight and ridicule. A break for them both. Orihime’s light voice pulled him from the thought.

“Where’s Ichigo and Grimmjow?” She asked, having long since grown used to their presence, especially when outside the mansion.

Shiro shrugged simply, “I gave ‘em the day off. They don’t get many a’ those.”

Orihme nodded slowly, but knew better than to think that was as simple as the man made it sound. Likely they were also clocking a little overtime, as Shiro had put it. But he’d promised to keep her out of his darker work and so she never pried when he was vague.

“So you gotta movie picked out?” He asked, turning the conversation away from business again. Outside, the sun was beginning to set and dusk was darkening the space between buildings. He watched it go by.

“I do… but I’m not sure you’ll like it.” She smiled a bit, hands in her lap.

“Oh yeah? Well, I guess if I don’t, that just means I get ta pick our next movie.” He turned to her with a smile as the car pulled into the lot, easing to a stop before the entrance. She smiled back and climbed from the car at his side, arm in arm with him as the people around them paused to watch.

She’d been right. Romantic comedy wasn’t the don’s preferred genre, but he sat through it willingly enough and let her enjoy the movie and his company and the largest size popcorn the theater carried.

When the movie was over, they found their way back to the mansion, where she would ultimately spend the night.

That next morning turned out to be a big one. Her hands shook as she looked down at the little blue symbols starting to faze into existence; a minus sign, and a plus. A wave of nervousness and even fear washed through her; fear of what would happen, to her, for her, the baby and all the things that could go wrong between now and delivery. Worry that she wouldn’t be able to handle a child if it did make it that far. But every thought and worry that came crashing into her thoughts in those few seconds was pushed aside as she sat there in a bathroom practically carved from marble. This child would have literally anything it ever needed or could ever want.

And Shiro would be so happy…

He treated her well, he really did. Just like he’d promised to in the beginning and up until this point, when their little fantasy was starting to become a reality, she’d almost forgotten that this was all just business, a contract.

From in the adjoining bedroom, the mattress springs shifted. The don’s watery voice called a curious, “Everything alright in there, beautiful?”

Tears, of both joy and fear, welled in her eyes as she held the plastic pregnancy test in shaking hands. With a fortifying breath, she finally left the bathroom. Gold eyes watched her with maybe a hint of worry. Shiro was so hard to read. She nodded, breathed out a sob and masked it with a smile as she held the test up, “Shiro… you’re going to be a father.”

It took an exaggerated second for the don to register and react, “I- Really?” His pale brows arched and he shifted closer to the edge of the bed, the corner of a blanket pulled over his waist.

She nodded, her voice catching a little when she spoke, “I-I took three of them, all positive.”

The large grin finally won through and Shiro surged to his feet, completely disregarding the blanket that fell away from his naked form. Despite that she’d put on a sleeping gown and was fully covered, his state of undress never seemed to bother him. She was sure he could stride naked through his mansion, surrounded by people, and not even notice. But that was neither here nor there. He crossed the space of his bedroom and wound strong arms around her, so pleased to finally hear good news that he twirled her in an excited circle before putting her back on her feet. “Why’re you cryin’? This is great news.”

“I know. Just- Just nervous, I suppose. This is a little bit scary…” A look of accidental shock overtook her features and she held out a hand, waving it in a staying motion, “Not you, of course! Not– Just, in general. A baby and being pregnant and…”

Shiro laughed again, not offended, “Nothin’ ta be scared about. You’ll be well cared for, anything ya need, just like I promised.”

When she answered him, there was a smile on her face but her voice came out a whisper, “I know.”

Later that same week, she had her first visit with a doctor hand selected by Shiro and the don’s personal doctor. She’d had control over who her doctor was so far as to say yes or no to a short list of names and facilities given to her. Shiro, the father of her child, didn’t accompany her to her appointment, insistent that all this stayed as quiet and calm and under the radar as possible. His reasoning was sound, of course, and Orihime had known going into it that this is how it would be until the child was born. There was still something a bit disappointing about it, though, something murky and dark that helped to drive home just who the father of her child was.

To his credit, Shiro did send his best man with her. Ichigo walked with her through the doors, helped her fill out the paperwork at the receptions desk, and sat in the waiting room with her. When her name was called and she was shown to a private room, he accompanied her there too, under the guise of her brother. It was a believable enough play and mitigated most questions about the father right from the start.

Of course, as early on as she was, there wasn’t much news from the doctor that she hadn’t already known but they went ahead and scheduled her next visit.

In the coming weeks and months, she slept with the don less and she couldn’t help but feel as if, now that her purpose was fulfilled, he’d begun to lose interest in her. He still took her out, still treated her well and gave her anything she wanted or needed but he didn’t take her to his bed as often and he seemed less willing to put business on hold if she needed something from him, unless it was something that concerned the unborn child.

On one particularly quiet evening, while the don sat behind closed doors with a tall, dark haired man he’d greeted by name, she decided to take the boss’s righthand man up on an old offer. She hesitated as she raised her hand, before knocking on the solid wood of Ichigo’s door.

Before her knuckles could make contact a second time, the door was pulled open and she looked up at handsome features and cold blue eyes. A bit of a smile pulled at her lips, “Grimmjow.” She greeted quietly, then, “Is Ichigo-“

But before she could inquire further, the hunter stepped aside, pulling the door open wider as he cocked a brow at her. His eyes slid off to the side as he turned away and left her to follow him inside the space he shared with his handler. She closed the door behind herself as he called for his partner, announcing they had company and it wasn’t the boss.

Ichigo joined them a moment later, dressed in plain black pants and pulling a grey shirt over his head as he left his room.

Orihime’s features flushed and she pulled her attention away, taking in the space. It wasn’t as extravagant as the don’s private rooms, but it was still the size of a small apartment and no less well furnished. It was clean, but looked more lived in than the don’s rooms. There were dishes stacked and waiting to be put in the dishwasher, a discarded suit jacket thrown over a chair in the dining area, a set of keys on the table next to a phone and one of Grimmjow’s big knives.

“Is everything ok, Miss Inoue?” The handler asked, motioning for her to make herself comfortable.

She glanced at the indicated couch, before taking a seat, absently resting a hand against her stomach. After a moment’s hesitation, she pushed half a small smile onto her features and nodded, dropping her hands into her lap. “Yes, just didn’t much feel like sitting alone while Shiro entertains his guest.”

Grimmjow frowned, a bit of alarm to the expression, “Shiro’s entertaining and didn’t request us…?”

Ichigo waved it off, “It’s just Kuchiki. Not sure if it’s business or not, but he’s safe enough with Byakuya.”

Grimmjow grunted. “At least one of us knows what’s going on. This was easier with Ishida.”

The handler sort of smiled, one corner of his lips slanting a touch, before turning back to Orihime. “What should we do, then? He and Byakuya can talk for quite a while, it’s impressive, really. We’ll probably have a few hours to kill.”

A soft smile softened the woman’s features. “I wouldn’t mind getting out for a while.” She decided. “Do you like romantic comedies more than Shiro does?”

Ichigo nodded with a laugh, “A movie sounds great.” He turned to look at his partner, “Coming with us?” When the big man made a face, Ichigo’s smile turned a little more cunning. “We can go to the theater that happens to sit a block away from that smithery you like.”

Blue eyes narrowed, but Grimmjow crossed to the table and started collecting his coat. “That’s a cheap tactic, Ichigo.”

Ichigo laughed, “I’ll buy you something sharp and shiny.”

And so the three went to a movie while Shiro sipped wine with his high standing friend. A slight motion of his hand, a cigarette burning between two fingers, had their glasses refilled and he never missed a beat where he sat in the lounge comfortably.

“How is your personal project going, Shirosaki?” Byakuya asked, nodding his thanks to the servant but otherwise not acknowledging the quiet man. He knew just by the way his superior’s pale features lit up that the answer would be a positive one.

“It’s going fantastically. I not only found a willin’ participant, but we’re finally havin’ some success. She’s about four months along now.”

“How wonderful. Congratulations, Shiro.” He absently rotated the long stemmed glass in his hand, dark eyes coasting about the room briefly, “It’s going to be quite the sight to see a little one running about.”

The don accepted the good tidings with a graceful nod and a smile, “There go my quiet evenings, I suppose.” The comment drew a quiet laugh from his business partner, “You and Hisana ever think about havin’ kids?”

“We did. We thought we’d have a couple in the future, after I’d built up my family into something stronger, something safer for a child to grow up in. Alas.”

Shiro let a moment of silence go by, sipping his wine. Then, “Well. You’ll get the chance ta be an uncle.”

Dark eyes widened minutely, before a quiet smile settled across regal features. “I’m honored. May I tell Rukia of the good news? She’ll be excited to lavish your baby with more clothes and stuffed animals than a child needs.”

The don laughed, “Yes, but no one else. I’m keepin’ it as quiet as I can for now, until the baby’s born. I wanna let the mother slip away quietly and preferably with her life when this is done. The less anyone knows of her involvement, the better. Let ‘em talk and speculate afterward.”

“Of course.” Byakuya sipped his wine, that quiet smile still lingering on his placid, hard to read features. “Do you know if it’s a boy or girl yet?”

The don shook his head, a stream of blue smoke curling through the air as he smoke, “Nah. Doctor says everything looks healthy and normal though.”

After their social gathering was over, Shiro walked the other don to the front doors. Byakuya bowed slightly, thanking him for the wine and conversation, and wishing him fortune and a male heir to continue his name. Szayel met him at the door as he turned from the entry.

Grimmjow, Ichigo, and Orihime returned hardly a half hour later, the former looking vaguely annoyed while the latter two walked arm in arm up the low staircase of the entrance. The woman seemed to be in much higher sprits upon their return, but how could she not? After spending most of the evening flirting with Ichigo. And Ichigo was far too kind and understanding. It honestly grated on Grimmjow’s nerves a bit, but as she’d left their company for a few minutes to use the restroom before the movie, Ichigo had all but pleaded with Grimmjow not to say anything.

“Let her have her fun, Grimm, it means nothing.” He’d assured, “You know I’m not interested, and besides, she’s carrying the boss’s child. If this is what keeps her content and keeps her from stressing out, than I can help keep her mind off of Shiro’s business.”

“Fine.” Grimmjow had been visibly displeased about it. The other people in the lobby of the theater around them gave him a wide birth, “But after all this is over, if she sticks around like you’re hoping, we’re telling Shiro. He deserves to know his woman’s trying to climb all over his best friend.”

Ichigo shook his head but there was amusement there, “If she stays and it continues, I’ll speak to him about it myself.”

They returned to the mansion to find the lounge empty, the wine glasses cleared from the table and the hallways silent. Ichigo smiled at the young lady hovering at his side, “I guess that means their meeting’s over. He’s probably in his suite, would you like us to escort you there?”

“No, thank you.” Orihime smiled back, “I can manage on my own. I’m sure you two have other things to attend to without me taking up more of your time. Thank you, though, for the pleasant evening.”

Ichigo assured her that it was his and Grimmjow’s pleasure, careful to include both of them, before they parted ways. True to what she’d assumed, they headed back toward the front of the mansion, rounding the hallway towards a side wing that housed more of Shiro’s business focused spaces.

Orihime watched them go for a moment, then turned back toward the rear of the mansion, where she’d find Shiro’s rooms. The hallway back here was quiet while the majority of the mansion’s usual occupants went about their duties for their boss.

She frowned as she let herself into Shiro’s personal quarters, very nearly calling for her powerful lover before a sound like shifting weight and a gasp caught her attention. She tiptoed her way through the kitchen, rested a hand against the wood of the double doors that led into the bedroom itself, but didn’t push them open more than the crack they’d been left at; a rushed attempt to throw the doors shut behind the occupants, no doubt.

Within, the don entertained another guest. The sheets were twisted between his fingers, his legs wound around slim hips. Dr. Granz pushed into him and he closed his teeth around the sound in his throat. Gold eyes were slit open, heavy lidded and swirling as he watched the doctor work above him, against him, for him. Pink, shoulder-length hair was a mess where it hung in the taller’s face and Szayel’s glasses had been discarded somewhere safer, leaving the full heat and force of those intelligent eyes to find the boss.

Shiro stuttered out a groaning sound of quiet pleasure, his body tightening as the doctor again thrust into him. “Fuck-“ He whispered, “You really are gorgeous like this, Szazy.”

The doctor snorted a breathless sound of amusement, his hands like vice grips upon the don’s hips. His fingers left bruises on pale skin and he moved in a clinical way, his actions precise like he was studying each and every reaction. “I’m sure you tell your woman that too.”

The don laughed, his features splitting into a smile that was happy in more ways than one. “Sure, and she is, but she’s here for business. You’re here for pleasure.”

“I see. An important distinction.” The doctor decided, leaning over his boss when fingers carded through his hair. He punctuated the words with a harder thrust, pulling the smaller into it.

“Indee- Ah!” Shiro cut his words short, arching against the mattress, head falling back as he fought to redirect his focus. When he failed to pick up their hushed, distracted conversation, he instead mumbled a needy, “Th-there, Szazy, right there.”

Orihime covered a surprised gasp with a dainty hand over her mouth. Maybe this shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She’d known from the start that what was between her and the don was purely business; a means to an end. He didn’t really care for her, only what she could give him. But seeing it face to face was harsh all the same.

She backed away from the door and fled the suite as quietly as possible.

An hour later, as Shiro wandered through the halls of his mansion while he fixed the buttons of his silk shirt, he frowned and headed for the front entry. The angled step he took towards his secretary’s office as he entered the rotunda was an automatic one, before he corrected it and instead went straight for the doormen. That particular office had sat empty for more than a year now, emptied out of all but a few personal items that Ishida hadn’t a close family to send to.

“They’re late.” He stated, clearly displeased, as he stepped up to the men that turned towards him as he neared. There was no danger, of course, since she was out with his two best, but lagging behind schedule might as well have been an insult.

“Uh, no, sir.” One spoke up, glancing at his partner with a frown, “They’ve returned already, more than an hour ago, but Miss Inoue came back and said you’d sent her away while you were busy again.”

Shiro started to shake his head, frowning all the deeper, before his pale brows arched slightly, “Well, no more hidin’ that one.” He muttered, then sighed, “She went back home, I take it. Why’s the car still out front?”

“She insisted that she needed some fresh air, sir…”

“She- _what_? She _walked_ outta here, is that what you’re tellin’ me? She walked out, and ya let her? What the hell is wrong with you?” By the end of the short line of questioning, the don’s voice was a snarl and rage twisted his features. “She’s pregnant with my child, visibly pregnant- I have guys detailin’ her for a good goddamn reason!” He raised a hand, pointed an accusing finger, and never mind that the two doormen were large gentlemen indeed, more than fifty pounds on the boss, they cringed. “Get Ichigo and Grimmjow here _now_.”

Without giving further orders, he pushed between the two and out the front door. As the swinging doors slammed shut behind him, he pulled the handgun from where it always sat tucked against his spine and checked the clip, before putting it back. He forewent the car still parked out front, his driver seated within and ready, and stalked down the drive at a half-measured trot. She couldn’t have gotten that far, especially if she really was only intending to get some air and kill some time rather than interrupt him.

He’d taken a right at the end of his drive, in the direction of the main drag of the city, and made it less than a block when he heard a scream. In their months of involvement, he heard enough of the sounds her voice could make to know exactly who it was doing the screaming and it took nothing more to prompt him into a full sprint down the road. He rounded the corner of an alleyway in time to see a man he’d never seen before yank her back to her feet by a hand in her long, beautiful hair. She begged him in pleading whimpers to leave her alone.

Shiro saw red.

He didn’t even bother with the gun tucked into his pants. Instead, he ran straight into the alley, where the shadows were working to obscure the culprit and his victim. He caught the man by the back of the neck, dragging him away from Orihime. As the man released her and started to fall back, the don brought a knee up and drove it straight into the middle of the man’s spine with a growl that could have just as easily come from a rabid dog.

He held up a single finger, “Stray right there.” He told the woman, but didn’t look at her as he threw the man in his grasp further towards the front of the alley. Orihime didn’t have to be told twice as she practically huddled at the base of the brick wall, an arm slung around her distended belly. Terrified tears tracked her cheeks and she shook with adrenaline and fright as she watched the don.

For the first time in her presence, Shiro lived up to his title and the reputation attached to it.

White knuckles found the stranger’s face, shattered his nose with the first hit. He cried out, half dropping to his knees as he reached up to cradle his broken face. Shiro didn’t let him get to the ground, though, and grabbed the front of his shirt. He hauled the thug back to his feet, throwing him further toward the street and away from the mother of his child.

An all black car screeched to a harsh stop at the mouth of the alley. From within, Ichigo threw the door open, fully intending to rush to help his boss with the situation. Instead, he half fell back in his seat, backing up against Grimmjow as the target of Shiro’s temper was thrown against the open doorway. Between the weight of the figure and the force of Shiro’s throw, the car rocked.

Shiro straddled the man, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt as he dragged him forward enough to slam him back again so that the back of his skull found the car’s metal doorframe. A sick crunch rang through the vehicle and Shiro released the man, straightening over his struggling form only grab the car door. A vicious sneer marred his panting features as he slammed the door shut on the man’s skull, quite pleased when it bounced open again. Another sick crunched accompanied the protest of the door’s hinges as it was swung shut again and, again, bounced back open.

From inside the car, Grimmjow arched blue brows almost mildly and watched over Ichigo’s shoulder, unconcerned about the drastic, animal display. Blood splattered against the floor and the seat where the man half laid against it, the door mangling his face as it was shut again. “I guess the boss isn’t bringing him in.” He observed calmly.

Ichigo cringed at the wet, spongey sounds the victim made as he tried to breathe through the ruin of his face and neck. His hand was a tight vice against Grimmjow’s leg, but the bigger hunter knew from experience that the edge to his partner’s breathing wasn’t necessarily entirely revulsion. It was always more fun later on if Ichigo wasn’t actually the one getting his hands dirty. He’d never admit it, of course, but Grimmjow knew he liked to watch.

Outside of the car, Shiro finally quit beating on the motionless figure, his chest heaving below his dark colored, ruined silk shirt. He bent close, listening to the ragged, bubbling gasping of breath that managed to wheeze from the thug’s crushed jaws. The poor fool didn’t move. The don fisted his hands in the man’s shirt again, but this time it was only to drag him from the car’s doorway. He dropped him to the side, kicking him over so that he was out of the way and laid on his back. Looking down at the misshapen figure, he bent close again, sneering in the broken face, “This better be an isolated event, ya hear me? Anyone else lays a hand on her, I’ll kill them first and be back ta finish this.”

With that, he stepped over the man and turned to face the young woman staring at him with wide, tear filled eyes. He sighed at the look, turning back toward the car. Without prompt, a handkerchief was handed to him and he began wiping the blood spatter from his hands and arms, the few drops that managed to shower one side of his face. When he was as clean as he was going to get, he tucked the cloth into a pocket of his pants and pushed a hand back through his hair to get the long strands out of his face, and continued back down the alleyway with a deep, calming breath.

Orihime only hesitated a moment when he offered her a hand. She accepted his help in getting back to her feet, a hand protectively held against her belly.

“Are you alright?” Shiro asked, looking her over, “He hurt you or the baby?”

Orihime shook her head, swallowed, “N-no, I’m- I’m fine. We’re–“ But her voice cracked and when his arm reached around to settle a hand against the middle of her back with mild pressure, she didn’t resist being pulled against him. She cried as she hid her face in his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

He was quiet a moment, before asking, “Are ya sorry because you’re afraid I’ll hurt you for runnin’ off?”

She shook her head and whispered, “No… I’m not afraid of you.”

He nodded, satisfied enough with her answer, and began leading her to the car.

When they’d made it back to the mansion, a short few moments of quiet car ride and the thick smell of blood, Shiro insisted that she let Szayel check her over quickly. Just for peace of mind, he said, to make sure the stress and rough handling hadn’t hurt her or had an adverse effect on the developing baby.

With little real choice in the matter, she agreed. She couldn’t look Szayel in the eye through the entire exam, her attention constantly edging off to the side as careful fingers touched here and there while she answered questions. But she didn’t say anything about the events that had surely led to her sudden need for fresh air, so Shiro didn’t either and Szayel was left in the dark entirely.

In the coming weeks, she seemed less and less infatuated by the boss and all his charm. She was, of course, not openly disinterested or hostile or even so much as impolite to him, she wouldn’t dare even if she had it in her to be so, but the change was still noticeable to the point where Ichigo and Grimmjow had picked up on it.

One evening, as Orihime had excused herself from their company under the guise of being tired, Ichigo turned to his boss with a bit of a frown. “Is all well, sir?” He’d asked. “She seems… discontent lately.”

Shiro, of course, already knew all that. He half waved it off, unconcerned so long as all went smoothly with his child. He sat back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the dinning room table -who was going to tell him not to?- and pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket. With a sigh, he lit up. “Remember the other day when she got jumped? She’d run out ‘cause she caught Szazy and me.” He said it so casually that, even though it wasn’t particularly surprising, it wasn’t what Ichigo was expecting to hear.

The handler half choked on his wine, turning a look on the younger. “Caught you two… Caught-?” He tried to confirm.

Shiro shrugged. “Fuckin’, yeah. We didn’t know she was there, or even in the mansion. I figured she was still with you two. I’m readin’ between the lines, but I’m guessin’ she musta’ let herself inta my suite and got more than she bargained for. I was a little distracted,” He cracked a smile and shifted his attention to Grimmjow, “Whatever ya said ta him after Ishida musta did the trick, Grimm, I owe ya. Haven’t been fucked like that in a while, and he’s a real quick learner.”

The big hunter grunted a laugh, “Threatening him is always my pleasure, boss, but you’re welcome. Glad to hear I wont have to worry about you creeping into my bed at night anymore.”

“I dunno ‘bout that, if Ichigo’d agree ta-“

Ichigo shook his head, half in disbelief, half in answer. But went back to the topic at hand, “So what’s that mean for her and your deal with her?” He asked, leaning further over the table with a steadily deepening frown that said he was quite disappointed in his friend.

The mob boss’s humor drained and he half curled his lip. “I like Grimmjow’s line of thinkin’ better.” He started offhandedly, before shrugging. He took another drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl from his nostrils as he spoke, “The same as it meant before. I’ll talk to her tanight, but nothin’s changed. She’s gotta put up with me ‘till the baby’s born. After that, she’s free ta go and never see me, my family or this building ever again. Simple.”

“It’s not going to be that simple, Shiro, you realize that, right?”

Again the boss merely shrugged. “I’ll deal with it.”

The handler seemed all the more disappointed, but he couldn’t count how many times this same discussion had been brought up in the past six months. “Shiro… You’re not attached to her even a little? She’s a living, breathing human being and she’s about to give you another family member…”

“I like her, Ichigo, I really do. I’d love nothin’ more than ta work this out ta her advantage the best I can and that’s what I’m gonna do at next to all costs, but a deal’s a deal. I’m not about ta endanger my empire for her, I wanna cut her clean and send her on her way with a whole shit load of cash and be done with it. But if she breaks the contract she entered into with me…” He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture, the cigarette smoking between two of his fingers, “I’ll handle it. Personally.”

Later that night, he found her half asleep on his couch, one of his old mobster movies playing on the big screen in his sitting area. She wasn’t paying much attention to it, but she noticed when it stopped playing, the picture pausing and the sound falling away. She looked up at him, surprise on her tired features as she aimed the attempt at a smile towards him.

He didn’t bother returning the hollow gesture and moved to sink against the cushion furthest from her on the couch. Without preamble, he began, “Look, I get it. I probably fucked up the other night. I was tryin’ ta save ya the stress of it, but I shoulda been up front about the doc and I sleepin’ tagether from the start. He’s been my lover for a couple years now. I kicked him outta my room for your sake, but-” When she tried to interrupt, to dismiss what he said, he held a staying hand up and continued anyway. “If you don’t wanna pretend ta keep likin’ me, that’s fine. I don’t expect ya to. I never did. I got a room that’s been empty for a while, I can have it cleaned and readied, and set ya up in there for the resta’ your stay if that’d be more comfortable and less awkward for ya. It’s close ta mine, just down the hall, so I’d still be in easy reach if you needed anything.”

Even though it was phrased as a choice, it sounded more like he’d already made up his mind.

“I gotta warn ya, though. Just ‘cause you and me are through doesn’t mean you get ta keep makin’ eyes at Ichigo. His hunter’s real protective of him. See what I’m sayin’? You’d be smart not ta step on Grimmjow’s turf.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but words fell short and she instead dropped her attention to her lap. It was the first time Shiro had brought the subject up, but he wasn’t stupid or unobservant. She was a fool to think her little crush was as hidden as she had hoped.

“I caught the way ya kept lookin’ at him our first meetin’. It’s fine,” Shiro excused her with the very slightest hint of a smirk, “He’s charmin’ as all hell when he wants to be, I’m not mad about it. I trusted him not ta touch ya and I trusted you to be too smart to go behind my back, and you have been. No harm done. I’m only bringin’ it up now to save you the trouble of havin’ to deal with Grimmjow when he’s finally sick of it.”

“I-” She finally forced out, choked and upset. “I’m sorry…”

He shook his head and started to climb to his feet. “Don’t be. I fucked it up myself. It’s been fun though, I never really had someone ta take out and lavish b’fore. Maybe I’ll see about doin’ something a little more romantic with Szazy every once in a while, now that you’ve whet my appetite for it.” With a small shrug and a lop-sided smirk, he looked down at her. “I’ll let ya have my bed tanight. We’ll get that room ready for ya tomorrow.”

“I’m sure he’d like that.” She said very, very quietly, then sat motionlessly for a second, a hand absently against her rounded belly. “I’m being confined to the mansion, aren’t I?”

“More or less. If you wanna go out and ya don’t wanna do it with me, I’ll assign a detail to look after you in my place.”

Orihime nodded and quietly followed his lead, climbing to her feet. When he offered her a hand, she absently, automatically took the assistance and without another word, she turned towards the interior of his suite and made for his bedroom. When she made it to the double doors, she heard him sigh and sink back down to the couch. A few seconds later, the movie unpaused and the sounds of a car chase resumed.

That next morning, Ichigo helped Orihime move into Ishida’s old room. She hadn’t brought much of anything to the boss’s mansion with her, but she’d acquired a reasonable collection of fine clothing and pricey jewelry during her stay. Shiro hadn’t skimped out on making her look the part when they’d been seen together in public.

“This place has been empty for a while.” Orihime said in the awkward silence as she opened a barred window that faced the back of the estate. The fresh air was welcomed in the slightly stale space.

“Yeah.” Ichigo settled a particularly heavy stack of clothing down on the bed in the two room space. Since Ishida hadn’t a partner -of the business kind or otherwise- he’d had no need for the larger, conjoined space Shiro’s teams had, and of course nothing nearly as elaborate as the small apartment that was Shiro’s personal rooms. “The don’s had a rough time of-“ He hesitated, motioning vaguely, “Of accepting Ishida’s death. That one hit hard. Ishida had been at his side nearly as long as I have. He and I practically watched Shiro grow up.”

She made a soft sound of regret, “The friend you told me about?” but didn’t wait for an answer. She shook her head, stopping what she was doing and suddenly looked like she was intruding. “Oh, no… He doesn’t have to– This is too much… I didn’t mean-”

Ichigo aimed a slight smile at her that might have been a touch sad, and dropped to sit on the edge of a bedside table. “No, this-“ He started, motioning around them, “this is a good step for him. He needs something to help him move past it. It’s a shame how things are working out between you two -he actually seemed pretty happy with you- but he needed a reason to empty this room out.”

“Well… At least I could do that much for him.” Orihime decided.

“You’ve done a lot more than that for him.” Ichigo assured her, “More than you realize.”

“…he hates me now.”

“No.” Ichigo shot back, not harshly, but decisively. “I think he likes you a lot more than he wanted to.” Unfortunately, he was starting to wonder if that wasn’t as dangerous or more so than the don not liking her at all. Ichigo shook his head slightly, “This is a dangerous position you’ve been put in, Orihime, I’m sorry. And I know this is frightening and it’s too much to ask- I hate it myself, but… Please, when the time comes, honor your contract with the boss. Cut your loss and move on.”

He studied the way her attention averted away from him and how gently, reverently her hands settled on her stomach, and he knew then that she wouldn’t take his advice. She wouldn’t hand the child over and be done with this horrid business. She would disappear and it would be by Shiro’s hand, just like the boss said it would be. He pitied both of them, and regretted what would happen.

He thought that maybe she saw that when she finally looked up at him, but she said nothing. She didn’t try to reassure him, she didn’t try to lie to him or herself. It was an admirable, quiet strength.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> (reminder; if you don't follow my tumblr ((shadowthorne . tumblr . com)) you're missing out on a lot of content! I post tons of DwtF stuff, including headcanons, ideas and drabbles that never make it to here, plus I accept and answer questions.)


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